Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!

When the Langford patriarch finished reading out the results…

Ethan, still standing casually in the crowd, shrugged. "Tch. Still short. Would've been hilarious if I got 1888."

Evelyn blinked. "Why 1888?"

Ethan shrugged. "Because that's how many kids will be calling me Daddy."

"…What." Ryan and Leeroy froze.

Ethan grinned. "Okay, okay, bad joke. Don't look at me like that."

This was… new. In all the time they'd known him, they'd never heard Ethan crack a joke before.

Clearly, he was in a good mood today.

Well, no surprise. After all, he was about to see Lyla again.

Up on stage, the Langford patriarch continued, voice carrying over the crowd.

…

"Today's Academic Duel is officially concluded. Tomorrow morning at eight, the Combat Trials will begin."

"To those of you ranked in the top fifty—meet back here at six this evening."

"A representative will escort you to the Silverwood banquet. Miss Silverwood herself will also be attending."

As he said this, he gave a subtle smile, full of unspoken meaning. And just like that, the day's events were wrapped.

Members of the Noble Eight began filing out, one family at a time. The rest of the contestants—outsiders mostly—were buzzing with excitement.

Especially the guys. They were already gossiping about the Silverwood heiress.

"I heard she's an absolute goddess."

"Yeah, same. They say she's the kind of beauty that ruins kingdoms."

"Look, I know I've got no shot at first place… but if I can just see her? That's enough eye candy to last a year."

Even Markham couldn't hold back his enthusiasm. He leaned toward Ethan and the others with a conspiratorial smirk.

"Word is, this Silverwood girl's getting hitched soon. Damn… married women are exactly my type—Ow! Son of a—!"

He yelped as Ryan jabbed a finger into his ribs.

"Hmph. Disgusting," Evelyn muttered, shooting him a glare of pure disdain.

Markham howled, clutching his side like he'd been stabbed. Evelyn tried to hold it in but couldn't help laughing. "Hehe… Ethan, someone's already eyeing your future wife."

Markham perked right up, completely forgetting the pain. He twisted around to look at Ethan, face full of mock innocence.

Ethan, meanwhile, gave him a look so dark it could dim daylight.

"Wait, you…" Markham began, but trailed off. Too many people nearby.

Ryan leaned in, clapped Markham on the shoulder, and whispered something in his ear.

Markham's expression shifted—first surprise, then mischief, then full-blown delight. Grabbing Ethan's arm, he grinned. "Bro, if something that fun is going down, you have to bring me along."

Ethan blinked, unsure how to respond. In the end, he just gave a quiet nod.

"Hell yeah," Markham said, rubbing his hands together. "This kind of wild plan? I'm dragging Bobby and Rook in too. They're gonna love it."

Ethan's expression twitched.

The plan was dangerous, but this guy was far too unhinged.

Only the privileged brats of elite families could treat something like this as a game. Anyone else would be running the opposite direction by now.

They were about to mess with not one, but two major families. The fallout could be catastrophic.

And these guys thought it sounded… fun.

And Markham really believed Bobby and Rook would want in?

Ethan's gut tightened. He glanced at Ryan. Probably shouldn't have told him anything. The more people knew, the higher the risk.

His original idea had been simple—grab Lyla and slip away quietly.

But with this crew? That was turning into a full-blown declaration of war against the Silverwoods.

'This is getting out of hand.'

Then, a familiar voice echoed in his mind.

"Oh? Getting cold feet already? Maybe I misjudged you after all. If you're this timid, how do you plan to protect anyone?

The enemies you'll face in the future… won't be anything like a bunch of noble families"

It was Morzan. First time he'd spoken up in a while—and of course, it had to be now.

Ethan's chest tightened.

He replied to Morzan in his mind, flat and sharp: "Easy for you to talk. You're not the one with a target on his back.

I don't know what those future enemies look like, but right now? The Silverwoods could crush me with a sneeze.

So unless you're offering to clean up the fallout when the sky burns, maybe don't act like my moral compass.

It's not even that I look down on you—no, wait, I do look down on you. Afraid of getting caught, afraid of this and that… with that tiny coward heart of yours, you still have the nerve to lecture me?

You only show up to judge. Not to help.

You wanna talk shame? Start by looking in a mirror. Go smack yourself in the face, see if it knocks some shame into you."

Ethan had been in a decent mood earlier.

But Morzan? The guy was silent for centuries, ignores him when he calls, and then just pops in whenever he feels like it? Like Ethan's brain was his personal taxi service?

Poof in. Poof out.

Ethan had been holding that irritation in for a while now. Today, he finally let it all out.

He barely stopped himself from spitting in Morzan's imaginary face.

"…Tch," Morzan grunted.

Then vanished.

Ethan didn't even care. He rejoined the others and started heading back with Ryan and the rest—just in time to spot Bobby and Rook waiting for them.

Technically, those two had lodgings over in the elite quarter—the area reserved for the nobility, the kids with real names and bloodlines.

Ethan and his group? They lived in the commons. No affiliations. No big family. Just a bunch of wandering nobodies.

To put it bluntly—they were the bottom of the barrel. But here Bobby and Rook were, standing at the entrance.

And to everyone's surprise, they said they wanted to move in with Ethan's group.

Turned out, Rook had a lot in common with Bobby. Both of them were on the outs with their families.

As for Markham—well, yeah, the Whitmores protected their own… but their gender bias was ridiculous.

He got beat up almost daily at home.

That's what drove him to run away, start trouble everywhere, make a name for himself.

His family never even came looking. But when he caused a mess? Someone always cleaned it up.

Ethan glanced at Markham, half in awe.

Man's got it made.

Then he looked at himself.

Yeah… life's not fair.

Markham was the kind of guy who could wreck a house and still get hugged when he came home.

Ethan? Just a forgotten orphan. He smiled bitterly and shook his head, falling into step with the others as they walked back.

…

What he didn't know was that Morzan—after getting chewed out—was now sitting cross-legged deep in the heart of Chaos.

Beside him sat a wine gourd, its scent thick in the air. The cap was off, letting that fragrant aroma drift out.

Normally, even the tiniest whiff was enough to make him guard it like treasure.

But now?

Morzan just stared blankly, unmoving. After Ethan's rant, even the wine had lost its flavor. What he was thinking, no one knew.

After a long silence… He sighed, picked up the gourd.

Raised it halfway to his lips…

Then paused.

Eventually, he sealed the gourd again, and hooked it back on his belt.

…

Back inside the Silverwood Hidden Territory…

The little courtyard where Ethan and the others lived had gotten louder with the addition of three new roommates.

Markham rummaged through his bottomless pouch and pulled out… a whole BBQ setup.

"Is that… even allowed?" Bobby looked nervous.

He knew full well—over in the Blackwell Hidden Territory, using gear like that was strictly banned.

Because… pollution.

The Hidden Territories were powered by a purification magic, which filtered air from the outside world before feeding it inside.

Lighting fires were a huge no.

"Don't be such a coward."

Markham said it like it was nothing, and got to work. Moments later, smoke was already rising from their little yard.

You could see it from a mile away.

Even Ethan started to sweat. "You think someone's gonna come boot us out?"

Markham really was a handful. No wonder he got beat up all the time at home. With that attitude, who wouldn't want to smack him?